


Did ya hear the story of...

by Sarah_von_Krolock



Series: Brave New World [2]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_von_Krolock/pseuds/Sarah_von_Krolock
Summary: Small and little ficlets of the love and life of Mr. and Mrs. Simcoe.





	1. Killing people is not going lowkey (Major John André-John Graves Simcoe-Elizabeth Gwillim)

Major John André is stopped from entering further into the room, after opening the door, by a corpse lying in front him. He looks down at the corpse that still spills blood from the wound in its throat that was caused by a dagger. He looks up to the man causing said wound. Down onto the corpse again and up once more. "You killed him." He is surprised by himself to stay so calm by voicing the undenying fact in front of his feet.  
"You don't say..." With a bored expression the other man cleans the dagger. Not a drop of blood ruined the uniform.  
"Is there a reasonable reason why a dead man lies on the floor and ruins the carpet?"  
"I told him to stop bleeding but he isn't listening... Some people can be incredibly stubborn."  
He sighs, rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other hand resting on his hip.. "Simcoe..."  
"He's a traitor," he shrugs with his shoulder, "he wanted to sell us to the enemy. The exact words were: 'I have two slimy Tories upstairs. Washington would pay me well for their posh asses'."  
"Did he tell you or why do you might think so?"  
"My very own informant did so."  
"Your very own informant?" Whom did he threat to...  
"Men are so easy," sounds a female voice that just enters the room from the other door, "Give them a bit ale and the view of a nice smile and neckline and they tell you everything."  
"What is she doing here?!" The Major points at the woman stepping in. "Excuse me, Milady, but what are you doing here?"  
"He brought me with him," she nods at Simcoe, cleaning her hands with a towel.  
"I thought I was very specific!"  
"You were, Sir." Simcoe puts the dagger away. "But it is my right to take my humble wife," he looks at her with a wide grin, "my moon and stars, with me."  
"And is it not my duty to accompany my dearest husband," she copies his gesture, "my heart and soul, to wherever he goes?"  
He could throw up. In fact, he would like to throw up. Not because of the corpse and the blood. They do it on purpose to act so sweet in front of everyone that all around could get diabetes and toothache and he likes especially to rub it into his face. 'Oh look at me, I married the woman I love! Look how happily married we are!` Ugh... Mr. and Mrs. Simcoe... Urgh... "What is wrong with you..."  
"You obviously, Sir. You are wrong with me."  
"Killing people is not going lowkey... in fact it will be pretty obvious when you're leaving a trail of dead people behind us."  
"Oh, I am sorry. The next time I wait until we get caught, imprisoned and tortured and also hanged..."  
He rolls with his eyes. By all means it is too tragic that this example of human mankind is the only one around to first, be available, second, to get his work done and third, to be cold and brutal enough to keep them getting rid of spies and traitors. If Major John André would have had a choice he would have taken anyone else onto the secret mission to find the leak in their lines and weaken Washington, than Captain Simcoe. He told him to not tell a single soul and what is he doing? Going straight to his wife and telling her. So much for secret undercover mission. "The corpse is your problem... I need a drink now."  
The two remaining looking after the Major as he left and shut the door soundly.  
"What is his problem," she asks, "It´s just an ungly carpet... It´s not even his carpet."  
"He has literally no sense of humour... That´s his problem." He already starts to roll up the corpse into said ugly carpet to get rid of both.


	2. No shots in small rooms (Major John André-John Graves Simcoe-Elizabeth Gwillim)

With a loud ´thud` the door fell shut. The Major, to his own despair, didn´t run fast enough past the Captain to keep the door from doing so. Therefore the only thing he could do right now is to groan in agony followed by a smaller ´thud` as he bangs his head against the wood of the door. "I don´t suppose you have a key...?"  
"Why should I?"  
That was just formidable... "Do you see a handle on the door? No? Me neither. Conclusion: We are trapped."  
"At least we won´t dehydrate." Judged by the fact that they´re in a good filled wine cellar. "I could shoot the door open." He has already drawn his pistols, unlocks it as loud "No!" is responding to him.  
"That´s an order, Captain Simcoe! You won´t shoot anyone or anything here!"  
"Spoilsport," murmurs Simcoe, locking the pistol again and putting it away.  
With his current luck, he would shoot him propably in the leg... "No shots in small rooms..."  
"I am an excellent marksman, Sir."  
"I don´t even doubt you on that." A few moments of silence pass where he sits down onto a crate.  
"We could use the gunpowder to..."  
"No explosions either!"  
"Well, I don´t see you making any suggestions on how to get out."  
"We´re waiting. At some point they need more wine and at some point someone of us will be missed."  
"By the ridiculous rich Shippen daughter?"  
He throws a look at his subordinate only to see his wide grin. The grin is actually more frightening than seeing him covered in blood.  
"Sir, with all due respect, but discreet looks different."  
How could he have known?...  
He draws a crate closer, sitting down and taking a bottle of wine. "Also, my wife taught me the powers of gossiping and rumors."  
Yeah... his wife, of course. Her best friend. Peggy told her for sure everything and she told him right away. No wonder when they´re outplayed by the continentals when no one is obviously able to keep a secret. "Babblemouth..."  
"Naha," he lifts a finger, "just an attentive listener."  
He rolls with his eyes. But the wine bottle is the best idea the Captain had in his eyes today. So he takes one too and opens it, taking a few sips immediately. Thinking about how long he might be trapped together with Simcoe he fears to be totally drunk by the end of the evening.  
"One heard that Mr. Shippen wasn´t really impressed. Well, no military rank can compare with a title of nobility or a huge family fortune."  
"One heard... more like one couldn´t keep his lips sealed and talked out lout secrets."  
"I apologise, Sir. Day in and out I try my hardest to seal her lips..."  
"Stop talking right now." These are the last images he needs in his head right now. "Just stop talking in general."  
"One might think you don´t like me, Sir."  
"How can anyone not like you..."  
"I know, right?"  
He rolls his eyes almost back into his head and empties the bottle in his hand almost to its half. "There is only one thing I don´t understand... that makes me think that there is no justice in life at all... How can someone like you find a woman who willingly marries you for love?"  
He stops after opening his own bottle, looking up and grins. "Jealous? Well, I would call it simply destiny or luck if I would believe in both. But therefore that I don´t I would say it is just thanks to the circumstances that we grew up together more or less."  
"The godson and the ward... sounds like a novel... Romeo and Juliet."  
"Romeo and Juliet were fourteen and killed themselves. Not without taking another few souls with them. Not what I would call romantic."  
"Actually I don´t want to know what you would call romantic." A severed head on a silver plate probably...  
  
Four bottles later they sit next to each other and each of them struggles with opening another bottle.  
"She is just so bloody beautiful... so bloody beautiful, even the devil would bend his knee for her," a slight slur sneaked onto the tongue of the Major. "But it´s not only her beauty. No. There are a thousand beautiful girls out there."  
"Mine is more beautiful." No slur with the Captain, but glassy eyes and red cheeks tell that he is as sober as his superior officer.  
"No way."  
"A-ha."  
"Hu-hu."  
"A-ha."  
"We can settle this in a duel."  
"´No shots in small rooms` was your order, Sir."  
"Damn..."  
It was silent for a few moments.  
"Every Siren and Mermaid would be jealous of her... A true daughter of the sea. You won´t believe how amazing sea shanties can sound until you heard her singing them." To underline his words, Simcoe nods once and putting the bottle to his lips.  
"She is so witty and smart. Never thought you could hide so much hate and disgust beneath so many charming compliments."  
"She could burn down the Spanish Armada single handed."  
"My Venus..."  
"My moon and stars..."  
Suddenly, what they never thought might happen, the door is opened. First a servant peeks in with a "Found them, Milady." And stepping aside.  
"There you are!"  
"Speaking of the devil," murmurs Simcoe and rises on his shaky legs. "My moon and stars," he blurts out loud with his grin as wide as his arms.  
"What are you two doing in here?"  
"The door fell shut, Milady."  
"Aha... and the only solution was to get drunk, obviously."  
"I am by far not drunk, my love."  
Elizabeth looks up to her husband who tried his best to walk straight as he comes up to her. "I can still make you to one lucky woman ton-" A dull thud and a groan ends his sentence as she steps aside, letting him stumbling against the wall behind her.  
"Why were you here in the first place?"  
"Secret talk, Milady." André keeps seated. He fears the world would twist and turn when he stands up.  
"Ah, yes. And a room that can only be opened from the outside is the best place for that... We were looking for you two for two hours. Next time you go into the gardens. Out. Now."  
"Yes, Milady!" By her commanding tone he salutes out of reflex with rising to his feet. Luckily he can still walk without stumbling against a wall.  
"That wasn´t nice..."  
She turns her head to her husband, seing him sulking with a small pout around his lips. "I´ll be nice again when you´re sober. Up in the bedroom with you. You smell like a tavern. Cold water will help you."  
"Please... no cold water."  
"You have to blame yourself, my heart and soul." With one arm around her shoulders, she steadies him and helps him to get the stairs and going up these.  
"Please... I promise..."  
"My brave soldier has a weak spot. Cold water," she smirks.


	3. Summer of ´73 I (John Graves Simcoe/Elizabeth Gwillim)

"I am sorry, my boy. I don´t have the time to talk with you right now, but Elizabeth for sure has. She´s outside in the back."  
He suppresses a rolling with the eyes and replies instead with a simple "Yes, Sir." That annoying brat that´s the ward of his godfather. Every year in summer it´s the same. When, back then in school already, the Academy is closed through the summer he stays at his godfathers place. And little Lizzie. Well, at least he can have verbal fights with her. On the other hand it wouldn´t be a real summer without annoying her and being annoyed by her. And who knows when he´ll have the chance again, after being shipped to the colonies in fall.  
He does as his godfather said. Going to the back of the house, crossing the garden and meadow behind it. The flowers have grown so tall that he didn´t see her at first, sitting between these. First he could only hear her voice humming a sea shanty. Spanish Ladies, when he´s correct. A small smirk grows on his lips. Where others heard songs about sheeps or roses were sea shanties her lullabies. Getting closer he could also make out her hair popping out bold between the purple, blue and yellow of the wild flowers.  
"Nice work."  
She knew that John was standing behind her, the shadow he threw blew him. Also her maid told her right away as soon as he set foot onto her father´s grounds. So she isn´t surprised to see him standing above her as she looks up, still in full attire from the Academy.  
"Thank you, John." She narrows her eyes because of the sun, shielding them with one hand.  
"Since when do you start with nice words?" Without waiting for her permission he sits down next to her between the flowers, warm from the shining sun, where she spread her brushes and water colours.  
"You started first. Who are you and what have you done with John?"  
He smirks again. "Could ask you the same. No insults so far. Are you ill?"  
"I am very healthy and fine, thank you."  
"And I am still the same too." He lets a few moments in silence pass before he raises his voice again. "You don´t need to stop the humming, you know?"  
"You want to tell me I should continue," she asks without looking up from her drawing. "There´s a magic word."  
He sighs, taking his hat off and lying back. "Please." He covers his face with the hat.  
"Try again."  
"Pretty please," he murmurs from beneath the hat.  
Hearing the two magic words she starts humming until he cuts her off once more.  
"I´ll be shipped to the colonies in fall."  
She stops and turns her gaze at him. "Father wants to marry me off in winter."  
"What?" Immediately he sits up straight and takes the hat away. "To whom? Since when? I mean... I thought he granted you the privilege to... do what you pleases."  
She shrugs with her shoulders, turning her eyes back on her drawing. "He fears he might die before I am secured for the rest of my life."  
"Well... you wouldn´t have to worry for a house and money... I... can understand his intention. One from the Navy, I guess?" He admits that this news slightly shocked him. The thought she might be married one day never crossed his mind. He only always saw her wild and free and imagined her like this for always.  
"He talkes about men and names I don´t know."  
"How do you feel?" By how he knows her, she probably threw a fit and threatened someone with a lot of pain.  
She puts the brush down and taking a few breaths. "I am scared," she whispers, allowing herself for once to show weakness in front of him. "I don´t want to marry a stranger. Someone so old. I don´t want to marry at all. I don´t want someone to control every breath I take, my whole life."  
"Your parents are married too."  
"Mother can do what she likes, yes. But still father had every right over her by law."  
Minutes later he would say he doesn´t know why he said it. Maybe only to comfort her. Maybe because he feels sorry for her. Maybe because of something completely different he doesn´t want to realize yet. They are bickering and annoying each other, but that doesn´t mean they hate each other. As children they still stuck together to steal cake from the kitchen and he also would break everyone´s face who would dare to harm her. "I could marry you."  
An unlady like noise leaves her.  
"Think about it. I´ll be soon shipped off, giving you permission to do whatever pleases you and if not... well, how would I ever know? With any luck, I´ll return maybe in a few years and then... there is always somewhere a war. You´d be married... but somehow also not."  
"John, please. You´re just a cadet."  
"Promotion goes quickly in times of war."  
"You think father would marry me to a mere cadet? Even when it´s you?"  
"...No. But you can write me if this snea snake threats you ill."  
"Would you beat him up for me? Would you torture him?"  
"I could do that. But I am also a master duellist and a very fine marksman."  
"You´re a master at boasting, that´s all," she smirks and puts a smile onto his face.  
"My offer is open for all time."  
"Really?"  
"And when I die I´ll come back as a ghost and haunt him until he thinks of you being cursed."  
"You would shake tables? Knocking over chairs? Throwing cutlery and help me to build up my reputation as crazy local witch?"  
"Of course."  
"That´s a career I aspire," she giggles and he puts his hat on top of her hair, smiling.  
"I am serious with my offers."  
"Me too."  
The wide grin she wears again makes him feeling better. That´s more the Lizzie he knows.  
She looks up the sky, shielding her eyes. "We should get in. Tea will be served soon."  
He knows she can the hour of the day by the stand of the sun and at night by the moon and stars. The daughter of a naval officer. He rises as she does, helping to collect her things and offering to carry these inside. The things a true gentleman does. He follows her, watching her gliding with her hands through the flowers, still wearing his hat.  
"We could start an affair."  
He almost drops all the things in his arms.  
"I am still mad at father. And whomever he´ll chose will be for sure not my first man. I won´t grant him that privilege. If he expects a virgin as a bride I am going to disappoint him."  
She says it so casually...  
"Will you help me to defend my honour?" She turns around, looking straight at him.  
"What you´re talking about has nothing to do with defending your honour."  
"In my eyes defending my honour means to keep my free will and not letting a stranger taking what is mine alone to choose to whom I´ll give it on my own. I never understood what virginity has to do with honour. I mean... you boys are not born with having experience, right? At some point you´re having sex the first time too. So the conclusion is, you are also born as virgins. Why is it bound to honour with us, but not with you? When you boys are the one paying girls to love them for a few hours?"  
"Lizzie!"  
"It´s true John, don´t act like a saint. I am not a child and I am not stupid. So, you´re helping me to take revenge?"  
"No. Lizzie, no. Your father would first twist my neck and second... as gentleman, no. You can´t... I can´t...!"  
"Shouldn´t you come to my aid as a gentleman?"  
"You are twisting my words!"  
"Think about it," she shrugs with her shoulders and turns around again, continuing her path. "I´ll ask you later once more. You or I´ll take whoever crosses my path."  
He stands there completely swamped and needs a moment to close up to her. That was the very last thing he expected as he left the Academy today.


	4. Summer of ´73 II (John Graves Simcoe/Elizabeth Gwillim)

"You thought about it?"  
He almost jumps hearing her voice and sneaking up behind him. In the office of her father he wanted to take one of the military books from the shelves to read and didn´t expect her... well, actually one can expect her to be here. "Yes, and my answer is still no."  
With a sigh, she takes place on her father´s chair at the desk, playing with a compass lying there around.  
Once more he witnesses something to be very off with her. A... sort of tristesse. Usually she would have said something now like he can´t read anyways.  
"Well... then I´ll go into town and find someone else."  
"Your father won´t let you into town unsupervised."  
"Then I ask your comrades. Harper looked nice."  
He throws a glance at her. "Doubtful..."  
"Yes... not anymore after you broke his face." The look she gives him tells that she knows exactly why he did it last year. The poor fool was knocked out for three months "There are plenty out there."  
He flips through the pages of a book he took from one shelve. "Who don´t care for your well-being and only want to satisfy their lust."  
"Someone speaks out of experience?" She grins at him, arms crossed in front of her chest and leaning back in the chair.  
"My experience is not the subject here."  
"Come on, John. I am not stupid. You´re a young man and I know tavern and wenches since forever. Some can be quite seductive. For sure once in a while there´s one matching your taste."  
Soundly he closes the book. "Elizabeth Gwillim," he whispers with at least 25 percent hidden anger, "I am not going to be your lover, I am not going to be your affair!"  
"You could make me a child."  
"Elizabeth! Your mind is not clear!"  
"My mind is very clear, John, I thought about all opportunities, listen: You make me pregnant. You leave. Pregnant and unmarried the wedding will be hurried up with whomever my father chooses. The fool won´t know of my situation. Let´s be honest, it´s nothing a father would go door to door with. The fool might think it only needed the wedding night, what a steed, boost his ego. With a little bit luck, it´ll be a boy. I´ve done my duty, I am finished. He can turn his full attention to his girlfriends, men don´t tend to be monogamous, we all know that, and I´ll be left in peace - Tadaaa!"  
On one hand he is shocked. On the other hand, he is amazed. She grew. She grew so much. Weather through the months since they last saw each other or through the announcement of her father. There is nothing childish at her anymore. She clearly thought it through, from the start to the end. Smart. Cunning.  
"And?"  
"No!"  
"But why?! You would be still unmarried, no child, officially, no responsibilities, you´d be still a free man!"  
"Your father would disinherit me, I would have once been his godson, he would twist my neck and making sure I´ll stay overseas as a mere cadet for the rest of my life. That´s why! And it would stain your honour. Not mine."  
"Where is my honour when my so called husband rapes me every night."  
He sighs and puts the book away. "Could you please not say things like that?"  
"Why? Because it´s the uncomfortable truth? Life is not a fairy tale, John. My sex does not have the privilege of love. I learned it now the hard way. Maybe you will marry out of love once, but what about the girl? Will she really love you? Or has her father only seen a good party in you? A good match, looking at your family and then even maybe a career. You´re looking good, a nice bonus. But don´t expect her to love you how you´ll love her maybe. Love is not for us girls..."  
He turns his gaze at her again. No. She´s not the 16 year old brat, little Lizzie, he knows as he left months ago. There´s Ms. Gwillim sitting in front of him with the face of little Lizzie. "No. Because if the one is doing that then I will swim all the way through the bloody ocean and skin him alive." Another sigh and he sits down in front of the desk.  
"You´re doing it? Please say yes. John, please... don´t let me beg you."  
Tears are coming up her eyes, her face a mask of desperation, making it harder for him.  
"I know you, John. I trust you."  
He glides with one hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with squinted eyes. Again a sigh. What is she doing with him... "Just this summer. I won´t take any responsibility for any consequences, this was your idea all alone. I won´t say anything. You won´t say anything. You keep me completely out of this."  
"You´re doing it? Helping me taking revenge? An affair?"  
A sigh. That´s insane. She´s insane. He´s insane. "Yes."  
She jumps up from her place, clapping into her hands with a joyful expression on her face. Hurrying around the desk, she presses a kiss onto his cheek and leaves the room with a giggle.  
What the... did she just... played him? He turns around in the chair, looking after her. He has to smirk. That´s the Lizzie he knows.


	5. There is one in the room (Major John André/Major Edmund Hewlett/Abraham Woodhull/Anna Strong/Akinbode/Queen´s Rangers/Admiral Graves/John Graves Simcoe/Elizabeth Gwillim)

There is one in the room who hates him. Not because of his character but because of how he prances around, boasting with the wife on his arm. ´Oh look at me and how deeply in love we are, happily ever after, a marriage of love`. Shoving it everyone in the face. It´s disgusting.  
There is one in the room who respected the Lieutenant, the Captain, but not the man himself. The promotions were not without reason and he proofed and showed a smart mind in the matter of tactics and battles. But his methods always have a tendency of unnecessary violence. They are bloody, brutal and close to torture.   
There is one in the room who equally hates and fears him. He duelled him once and no one would have expected that he would show to be the greater gentleman and actually have mercy. He doesn´t doubt he would have shot him if he wouldn´t have taken down the pistol. And still while healing from a shot wound he beat him up. More than once close blowing him as a spy.  
There is one in the room who thinks about how to kill him. Thinking of one plot after the other, of all they already planned and yet he is still alive, even married by now. The one is just one plot away from believing he might be immortal. He is the biggest threat to their ring and must be... eleminated.   
There is one in the room who is, next to his wife, loyal until death to him. He treated him equally right from the start, equal and with respect. He trusts him, never treated him ill, taught how to survive, asking him to deliver important messages of high importance. Naming him his second man in command and his best man on his wedding. How can they call him a monster for killing when they are at war and everybody is doing so? An eye for an eye... Everybody is a monster at times of war.  
There are some in the room who fear and respect him. They are a lucky unit for having him as their superior officer, that he took over the command over them. He turned them into British soldiers that are respected. The hair cut and groomed, shaved, a clean and fitting uniform makes them human, helps with the ladies and all alone makes people respecting them. Their losses are small, especially that they´re in a war, but they also never fought alone. He was always with them in the very first row. Not like some posh Generals or Majors. He trust them. They trust him.  
There is one in the room who is so very happy for the two most important people in his life. That they finally found each other, finally surrendering to their feelings and making him a happy man. Even he needed time to see that there won´t ever be anyone else for his daughter than his godson. To see them together makes him realize that no one else would fit better to these two than they are to each other.  
There is one in the room who can´t be happier than she is now. One who enjoys walking on his arm, calling him her heart and soul. Enjoying being called his wife and wearing his surname with pride. One who radiates more happiness than usual, because of the little secret she carries underneath her heart and hasn´t told anybody about it yet.  
There is one in the room who does know about it. One who has been just too concerned with a doctor seeing her, catching said doctor before he left and got to know her little secret. Their little secret. He couldn´t be any happier than he is tonight. He feels satisfied with life. Today on Christmas Eve at Whitehall where they still hold residence while staying in Setauket. He looks down at the siren on his arm, the smile full with happiness and love. His wife. His love. The mother of his child. Bending down he whispers into her ear. "You think we should announce it?"  
"Announce what," she asks confused.   
Still smiling he loosens his arm from hers, putting the hand on her waist and gliding a few inches to the front. "Announcing that."  
A second later her eyes grew bigger, suprised that he knows. "How..."  
"You think you could call for a doctor without me being concerned and wanting to know what´s wrong with you? I thought you know me better. When did you want to tell me? Until it´s not possible to hide anymore?"  
"New Years Eve. I wanted to tell you on New Years Eve. My gift for a happy new year."  
"Every year will be a happy year from now on."  
She mirrors his smile and closes her eyes as he leans in for a kiss.   
There are two in the room, knowing, that in a few months they are going to be three.


	6. Priapus (John Graves Simcoe - Elizabeth Gwillim - Peggy Shippen)

_"Farewell and adieu to you Spanish Ladies, farewell and adieu to you, Ladies of Spain; For we´ve received order to sail to old England, but we hope in a short time to see you again."_  
He hears her voice as soon as he opens the door to enter her fathers current estate in Philadelphia. Immediately a smile grows on his lips. One of her favourite songs. Silently he closes the door again, knowing that no one else except her is at home. Her father is off to help the great General at the coast of South Carolina, encircling the rebells from two sides. It´s also the one day in the week she gives her maid off. And if not, he wouldn´t have cared less. And he cares even less for the kitchen staff and the other two remaining servants of her father.  
_"We´ll rant and we´ll roar like true British sailors, we´ll rant and we´ll roar across the salt seas."_  
He walks past the parlour without spotting her. Must be sitting at the fire place, the only part of the room one can´t see from the door. He guesses she´s reading one of her fathers books or giving her drawings the last touch. Stitching? No way, not his Lizzie. She wouldn´t even stitch a handkerchief for him.  
_"Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England, from Ushant to Scilly in thirty five leagues."_  
He still hears her with going upstairs to his rooms. All alone and freshly married - well, for two months now - he thinks it´s the perfect time for a little surprise. When they have this house all for themselve today... She always slightly mocks him - but he knows secretely she loves him for this - for his love of the old roman empire, his dead roman writers and poets. The idea popped into his mind last evening as he receited once again Ovid and she laughed. Seriously, how can one laugh at Ovid? No one can compete with Ovid. She needs to be convinced and he knows exactly the perfect way how. 

_"We´ll rant and we´ll roar like true British sailors, we´ll rant and we´ll roar across the salt seas. Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England, from Ushant to Scilly in thirty five leagues."_  
"Amazing. He´s fully asleep. Won´t you like to come over every evening to sing him asleep?" With a sigh Peggy Shippen puts down her cup of tea.  
Elizabeth laughs lowly, not wanting to wake up the offspring of her friend she holds now in her arms. "I guess my husband would rather like me to be here in the evening." She sits down next to her friend. She has to admit on one and she can´t wait to have one on her own. A child with John to raise and care for... or maybe two, three, four, five... but on the other hand she´s pretty happy to be all alone with John currently when she hears of her friend what the reality of motherhood actually is like. Carefully she puts the little one back into his mothers arms.  
"But crimson Priapus, guardian and glory of gardens, of them all, was captivated by Lotis."  
They both lift their heads and turning their gazes to wards the door.  
"He desires, and prays, and sighs for her alone, he signals to her, by nodding, woos her with signs."  
John appears in the doorway, rid of his uniform and dressed in a... bedsheet, she wonders, wrapped as a Toga and pulled over his shoulder to... - oh god, she´s really ashamed right now - reveal a lot of himself.  
"But the lovely are.... having a friend over." He stops himself immediately.  
"Hello... my love."  
"Well... I prefer mine a bit more... bald."  
He pulls the sheet down at once.  
"Is there a specific reason, my love, why you are dressed in a bedsheet and naked beneath it?" She looks at him sternly, no emotion is to be read from her face, keeping her dignity through and through. That kind of dignity he completely lost now.  
His face therefore tells that he imagined this going out different, pursing his lips as if he thinks for a moment. "No. There is non." He turns his look to Peggy. "Good day, Mrs. Shippen-Arnold. Congratulions," he nods at the bundle in her arms. "Nice work you´ve done there."  
"Thank you, John." She smirks with him being so formal now when they´re usually just Peggy and John.  
He nods once and vanishes from the doorway.  
Two moments of silence lingers above them.  
"Do you have any idea why..."  
"No." Elizabeth takes a deep breath. "I have no idea why he had the urgent need to dress up like a roman deity."  
She giggles shortly. "You must be a lucky woman."  
"Somtimes... in moments not like these."  
"I´ll better leave you two alone again. Seemed like... he had to discuss something with you."  
"Stop laughing."  
"I can´t... it´s the most amusing thing of the whole week. Not even my Major had been... this proud."  
"You´ll wake up little Edward."  
Immediately Peggy was silent and serious again. "I am sorry."  
"No. There is only one who needs to be sorry."

He haven´t heard Peggy. He didn´t know that Peggy was over. How could he have known?! He only heard his wifes voice and of course he assumed that she´s all alone. He would have never done this if he would have known. He hears the door opening and her steps. Only listening, not seeing for he sits, still in the bedsheet, on the edge of the bed and his face burried in his hands. This was indeed very embarassing.  
"You have to blame yourself all alone."  
"I know," he mumbles.  
"It was your idea."  
"I know."  
"The idea was stupid."  
"I know."  
"You can be glad that it was Peggy and no one else."  
"I know."  
"What if a subordinate or even a superior officer would have waited because he had a message for you or needed to talk with you?"  
"I don´t know." He hears her coming closer. Smelling the scent of her perfumes as she bends down.  
"Let´s keep Priapus for the bedroom alone, alright," she whispers into his ear, playfully stroking the sheet from his shoulder.  
He takes his hands down, looking up and seeing her smirking. "But you´re wearing too much to be Lotis."  
"You´re the expert for the dead romans. I guess you need to help me to... get into the right dress for Lotis." She has him smiling again.  
With one hand on her neck he pulls her closer, kissing her. With his other hand on her waist he drags her with him as he lies back, having her lying giggling on top of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Priapus - Ancient roman deity for fertility and luck:  
> "But crimson Priapus, guardian and glory of gardens,  
> Of them all, was captivated by Lotis:  
> He desires, and prays, and sighs for her alone,  
> He signals to her, by nodding, woos her with signs.  
> But the lovely are disdainful, pride waits on beauty:  
> She laughed at him, and scorned him with a look.  
> It was night, and drowsy from the wine,  
> They lay here and there, overcome by sleep.  
> Tired from play, Lotis rested on the grassy earth,  
> Furthest away, under the maple branches.  
> Her lover stood, and holding his breath, stole  
> Furtively and silently towards her on tiptoe. . ."  
> -Priapus and Lotis / Fasti by Ovid


	7. Stand at attention (John Graves Simcoe-Elizabeth Gwillim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Waking up, he finds the spot next to him empty. That´s something new. Usually he is the one who´s already awake and left the bed. Waking up without her curled up at his side, in his arm, is something new. His left side feels unusually cold. Strange, he thinks, for years he didn´t bother, but since she was literally pushed back into his life he does indeed bother. He lifts himself upon his elbow, looking around the room to the only source of light. The corners of his lips are rising to a smile. There she is. The source of his warmth. Sitting at the desk with the back to him, wearing his uniform coat. The smile grows into a smirk. The light of the lamp is warm and soft, illuminating the room enough, crowning her with a halo. It suits her, the halo. His very own goddess... Wiser than Isis, more beautiful than Aphrodite, and more seductive than Venus...  
"You rather sit there than lying here with me?"  
She turns around, smiling at him. "Agent King Arthur has to report, no matter who lies in her bed." She turns around again, quill scratching over paper.  
"There´s only one the Agent should report to."  
"You´d wish," she chuckles. "You know exactly how important it is that I report and to whom, you are only the massenger."  
"You are only using me?"  
She chuckles again by the played outraged and shocked sound in his voice. "You never complained."  
"I wouldn´t mind you using me right now."  
"You wouldn´t mind me using you twenty-four hours the day."  
"I would love to be used twenty-four hours the day by you."  
With a smirk she finishes the letter, putting the quill aside and letting the ink dry. She rises and turns around in one move and now he can clearly see that she only wears his coat and a crooked smile.  
It´s too big for her figure, too long. If he would have given it to her to keep warm while she´s fully dressed, he would say she would drown in it. But right now, naked, the hair loose and a mess, the light making her skin looking as soft as it feels in his hands, it´s the most seductive thing he´d been confronted with in ages. Actually, ever. The roundings of her breasts underneath, the small nest of sweet curls open and bare for him to see... He takes a deep breath. "No, no... not yet. Keep it on." He lifts a hand as she wants to undress, sitting up and leaning with his back against the headboard.  
She grins, knowing very well of the power she has right now. Slowly she goes over to him, stopping in front of the bed. She puts her hands onto her waist, proud of his eyes wandering up and down on her, taking in everything she gives him to see. She gives him one more moment before she joins him, crawling over him and taking place on his lap.  
Immediately his hands finding their way to her waist, stroking down to her thighs and up again.  
"I thought you´d prefer the ancient romans and not the greeks."  
"Hm?" The sight she gives distracts him, looking up confused.  
She giggles. "I only know that the Spartan warriors dressed their brides as soldiers as a sign of how much they love them because they are so dedicated to their men."  
"How do you know? I thought it was me who studied history," he smirks.  
"You left your books behind."  
"And you were so bored one day that you studied on your own?"  
"I´ve read every one of father´s books one day," she shrugs with her shoulders. "What else should I have read?"  
"My little vixen..." He puts a hand into her neck, drawing her closer to kiss her. The fingers wander slowly deeper, feeling her small shudder as they barely touch her throat, down the valley of her breasts. Cupping one he´s reminded once more how perfectly they fit his hands. How it seems that everything, every inch of her body, was made to fit his hands and his alone. Warm and soft... No one else ever felt this soft and warm how she does when she melts against his chest and into his hands with a sigh on her lips and one hand buries in his hair. He breaks the kiss, gasping for air as she grasps his hair, pulling at it so lovely like only she can. A grin, his little cunning witch, as she takes the chance to press her lips onto his neck. Little nibbles, soft bites, lovely strokes with her tongue.  
"You´re trying to mark me," he breathes.  
"Maybe?" She leans slightly back, looking straight at him as she rakes her fingers down his chest. The look in his eyes, his groan... It settles down right between her legs, leaving her trembling.  
His hands holding her tighter, pulling her closer, giving her an impression of what she causes in his body. The rogue waves she sents raging through him with a single touch of her delicate fingers alone. With a simple kiss. With her cheeks red like just know, the sweet shaped lips of hers and the wild chestnut halo of her hair. His blood rushes through his veins, her moving uneasy on top of him, feeling her trembling and her slick heat making it harder for him to think with every passing moment.  
"I can´t tell if you´re standing at attention right now because of me... or your uniform I am wearing," she breathes. The look in his eyes, another growl, sending again a shiver through her body. A surprising gasp follows as he lifts her, burrying himself inside of her. She doesn´t care anymore. She grabs his hair with her fingers and kisses him ardently. A rapturous sound escapes her.  
With her fingers in his hair, he gasps. She knows exactly the effect it has on him. Her fingers in his hair, grabbing and pulling softly at it, her nails driving up his neck. How she pushes her legs into his sides, how she moans his name joyfully, her fingernails… With each thrust she moves her hips to meet him and bade him welcome.  
He holds her close, holding her tight and brings her beneath him suddenly. The urgent need becomes too strong, the need to have her, to possess her, to satisfy both their greed for the other one.  
She feels as he moves, as he pushes into her again and again, how he fills her hard and firm... She trembles and shudders. She moans his name as she feels his thrusts increasing in hardness, as he gets faster. She loves him like this, the knowledge that she is the cause that he looses all of his self control. Not minding for a tiny bit when he gets rougher. The contrary. That´s exactly how she wants and needs him right now. Lusty sounds escaping her with every of his move, her voice soaking with pleasure.  
They sound like they are dying. But it is a little death that they both welcome. With her, he would love to die a thousand tiny deaths. His breath comes out in gasps on her moist skin. It arouses him to see her face so completely devoted to her desire, to completely dissolve into it. Rather it is the knowledge that it is he, who brings her this pleasure, that it is he who brings her to moan and sigh. He loses himself completely in that sight.  
She can´t hold it any longer, can´t restrain herself. His piercing eyes fixed onto her... With a little cry of his name she gains her salvation, tensing tightly around him.  
It´s the last bit of what he has needed. He follows her silently, pressing firmly into her and remaining so for several moments. He gasps his hot breath on her wet skin, his face pressed into the curve of her neck. He kept his eyes closed, trying to catch his breath. He can hear her heartbeat racing, the quick rush of her blood. The heart that beats so fast just because of him… He sighs as he feels how she strokes through his hair. Even at the very first time he had fallen to this gesture. So tenderly and lovingly… he distributes gentle kisses over her skin, whispering her name again and again, kissing his way up to her lips.  
She sighs in that kiss, keeping her eyes closed. As she feels a hand on her cheek, she snuggles up against it. Only when he takes his lips from hers, she raises her eyelids.  
Exhaustion is written on her face, but also happiness and that she simply adores him, with every fibre of her body. He can´t resist and kisses her again, putting all of his love for this woman into this kiss.  
"If you´re like this now," she breathes, "then what will you even do when I wear stockings and partly your uniform?"  
He chuckles lowly, tired, kissing the spot underneath her ear. "Guess you need to find that out." He lets himself down next to her, not a second later he puts his arm around her and pulling her close, not wanting to miss even the slightest bit of her warmth.  
"Not tonight," she sighs, sounding tired and exhausted smiling at the throbbing he left between her legs. She curls up at his side, her favourite spot. No matter where she is, his side is her favourite spot and simply home.  
He chuckles again, but before he can response she´s already fallen asleep and just a moment later he follows her into the blissful slumber.


	8. Summer of ´73 III (John Graves Simcoe - Elizabeth Gwillim)

"What are you looking at?"  
"Oh, nothing..." Margaret Graves, née Spinckes, looks out of the window. "It´s just amusing to watch how John follows her around everywhere. Like..."  
"A loyal dog?"  
Turning around, she sees her husband smirking, mirrors his expression. "Somehow, yes." She turns her gaze back out of the window. "Currently he carries all she needs to paints, to the pond."  
"The sun shine´s bright, it´s warm, it´s a nice day outside."  
"Oh, my dear... when a young man follows a young girl around everywhere..."  
"He probably want´s to keep her safe."  
She rolls her eyes with a smirk. "Yes, from the flesh eating fishes in the pond and the poisonous flowers all around there..."  
"Are you mocking me, my dear?"  
"I would never..." She tears her gaze from the window and takes her place in the armchair opposite her husband. "Have you ever recognised that she always used to say where to go to and he simply followed? Even when they were younger I became aware of it. He carried her books, he carried her easel, he carried the flowers she picked... He was always following her around."  
"He´s a soldier... It´s a habit."  
"To follow around young girls?"  
"Margaret..."  
"I am only saying..." She takes her needlework into her hands. "I just recognised it more in the last days than all the years before. Have you seen her smile since he´s back? She always wants to wear her hair open, no matter how hard I try to seduce her to a nice hairdo."  
"Is there something you want to tell me, my dear?"  
"Yes."  
He looks up from his writing, eyes resting on his wife with a question in these.  
"You are blind." She smirks as he grumbles and continues to write.

 

He sits down next to her after she arranged everything, right in between the flowers, the view directed onto the pond that´s surrounded by a wild growing beauty of flowers. He could hear a duck, a few swallows fly above them in the cloudless sky. "You chose a nice play for drawing today."  
"I know." After a moment of silence she continues. "I liked the colours and the contrasts, the arrangement of the flowers. The blue of the sky and the pond."  
He nods shortly. "I understand."  
"No, you don´t," she smirks.  
Looking at her a crooked smile grows on his face. "True, I don´t." With a sigh, he lies back, taking his hat to shield his face from the sun. he feels the warmth of the grass on his back, warmed by the bright sun. Slowly it´s also warming the rest of him. For minutes he lies there like this, legs crossed, hands folded on his stomach, almost dozing off.  
"When do you think is the right moment?"  
He needs a second or two. "When you think it is the right moment."  
It´s silent again shortly. "And when do I...?"  
"It was your idea, the right moment is your choice, not mine. When you think the moment is right, it is. When you don´t, it´s not." He hears her sighing and by lifting the hat a bit he also sees that she lay down next to him.  
"Never thought that this could be so complicated."  
He can´t resist to smirk.  
"I was right. You do have experience. You have experience, right? I am sure you have."  
"My experience is not the subject here."  
"For sure you have, with all the Ladies around Exeter and Oxford."  
"I am no Romeo."  
"Come on, John. At least one of us should know what to do and how."  
He chuckles. "If it resures you, yes, I do have."  
"Thank heaven," she expresses with a sigh of relief.  
Another short chuckle. After a moment he puts the hat aside, leaning over to her, resting on one elbow. "Maybe... we should start with kissing at first? That´s how it usually goes."  
She lifts her gaze up to him, shrugging with her shoulders. She has no clue how it usually goes. "When you say so..."  
"It´s your choice."  
She sits up with a sound of frustration. "I have no idea, John! I don´t know what´s usual and neither ´how it usually goes`! In my novels they only always kiss and _Boom_ , suddenly they live happily ever after and have children! I am not stupid , I know you need to become pregnant first and kissing is not causing it... You do a lot except kissing for it."  
"Then... no harm can be done through it, right?"  
She looks over her shoulder to him. "Guess so..." She shrugs with her shoulders. It always sounds nice and lovely by how it´s written in her novels, but when her friends, Anne and Sophie, who are already married, are telling her about it, it sounds horrible and gruesome. On one hand, she wants it. Out of spite. Simply out of spite. On the other hand the thought about it scares her.   
"You brought this up, the idea was yours. Everything concerning this will be your choice alone. I won´t force you, I won´t try to talk you into it. You want to kiss, we kiss. You want to..."  
"I don´t know, John! I have no clue about everything of this! Great for you, that you have so much experience, but I don´t know how kissing works! I never kissed anyone, ever! On the cheeks at the most and only..." She is shut up by his hand holding her chin and his lips pressed onto her. In shock and surprise, she holds still, shutting her eyes close. She didn´t realize that she was holding her breath until he lets go of her lips.  
"You look as if you took a bite of a raw onion."  
She opens her eyes again and finds his face only inches apart from hers.   
"You... can close your eyes. But you don´t need to shut them tight. If you don´t like it, you´ll tell me, alright," he whispers. He suppresses a smirk by her only nodding, completely speechless. He closes his eyes, his lips now softer onto her, small, little kisses this time with his hand resting on her cheek. It took a few moments until she returns these, responding to the soft pressure of his lips. It... feels nice. Her lips are soft and warm and kissing her... feels simply nice. Without any urgency, not harsh, not cold... He has no idea for how long they were kissing, how long they sat there amongst the flowers. He lost his feeling for time until someone cleared her throat. Breaking the kiss, he looks up, seeing her maid standing right behind her. He almost stumbles over his own feet as he rises, puttig his hat on, nodding at Elizabeth and rushes off, taking deep breaths.  
She rises with red cheeks, pressing the back of her hand against her lips and looking after him. They feel hot, her cheeks. With a stern look her maid stands their, disapproval speaks from her expression. "You won´t tell anyone about it. Not a single soul."  
"Yes. My Lady. The tea is served, my Lady."  
"Thank you, Mary-Ann..." She collects her colours and brushes, the paper and her easel. She can literally feel how red her cheeks must be. When they haven´t taken their natural colour by entering the house again, she blames it on the sun.


End file.
